The Pin

The pin


I love it when she pushes me up against the wall, pins me with her body, makes me squirm with the impulse to wriggle away and escape her intense focus. I love it when he does it, too. He has the physical power to pin me with my wrists above my head, leaving one hand free to torment me as he wishes. But she can crowd me with just her words and the laser-like look in her eyes, telling me she sees all my dirty little secrets lay bare.
When they do it together, well… I’m powerless to resist.
This time it starts with her taking exception to some throwaway comment I make and turning on me as we’re walking toward the apartment she shares with him. One minute we’re just chatting, the next she has me up against the wall as she leans in, so close I can smell her perfume and feel her physical energy like a force field. She presses a hand against my chest, just hard enough to feel uncomfortable; then slides it up, slowly, until her fingers are around my neck.
“You know you have to pay for that remark, right?” she purrs. She’s smiling, joking around, but with an underlying promise of something darker to come. She’s wearing sunglasses so her eyes are obscured, and somehow that makes it even more alarming. I nod, dry-mouthed. Her knee comes up, pushing between my thighs until it’s grinding against my crotch. I don’t dare move. She leans even closer, then suddenly pulls away. She walks away without a backward glance, confident that I’ll follow, and I trot after her meekly, trembling with confused arousal and anticipation.
She’s texted ahead to alert him — or maybe they planned it all along — because when we reach the apartment he opens the door silently, dressed only in sweatpants, and leads the way to the bedroom. The blinds are half closed, the room cool and still. He stands, expectantly; she pushes me toward him, catching me off balance so I collide with his bare chest. She winds her hand in my hair and tilts my head back so I’m looking up at him.
“On your knees,” he says; but it’s her hands I feel pressing on my shoulders, pushing me to the floor. And it’s her hands I see reaching either side of me to tug his sweatpants down. His cock springs out, already hard, pointing at my face.
“Suck it,” she says sweetly. Her words turn me on as much as the sight of that thick, hard, beautiful cock. She kneels beside me, wrapping her fingers around the base of his dick and aiming it at my lips. I lick all around the shiny head, then open wide and start to take it into my mouth, bobbing my head, a little deeper each time. The sensation of that hard, throbbing, primal masculinity is irresistible. I feel a gush of wetness between my thighs, and one hand slides down, involuntarily, to touch myself.
“Oh no you don’t” she says, grabbing my arm with her free hand and twisting it up behind my back. “I said you were going to pay. Have you forgotten you’re here for our pleasure, not your own?”
I shake my head, as much as I can with his big cock in my mouth. In this position, her fingers tight around my wrist, she can hold me perfectly still; any movement and she simply twists harder, sending pain shooting through my arm. Now she lets go of his cock, and he starts thrusting forward into my mouth, not quite deep enough to make me gag but testing my limits. I’m starting to feel light headed, drunk on cock.
She moves behind me, her body pressed against my back, my twisted arm between us. Her breasts squash against me, nipples hard, digging into my flesh. I’m desperate for her to touch me, but I know she won’t; so instead I get some kind of relief from touching her. My free hand wraps around her thigh. When she doesn’t object, I inch it higher, finding the crotch of her panties, gratified to discover how wet she is. I press harder, pushing the damp cotton up into the groove between her plump lips, getting a jolt of pleasure from feeling her shudder against me.
I rub my fingers up and down her slit, grinding over her clit. He’s thrusting into my mouth harder now, but her tight grip keeps me steady. She winds her free hand in my hair again, keeping my head motionless as his cock plows into my mouth. She’s asserting her control over me, but when I slide my fingers under her panties and plunge three straight up her slippery-wet cunt, she can’t hold back her moans. She starts rocking her hips, riding my fingers. I feel enveloped, almost suffocated by the pair of them, his crotch pressing closer to my face with each thrust into my mouth, her whole body plastered against my back as her wetness soaks my hand, her grip still tight on my head and wrist. It’s overwhelming.
I feel my body start to shake with tension. She glances up at him, stilling him with a look, and then pulls my head back so his cock slides out of my mouth a little way. She releases her grip on me and moves a little to the side, still impaled on my fingers. It’s a measure of their control that I don’t even think of touching myself, even though I need to so badly. Instead my hand goes to him, gripping his hip to steady myself. And now her mouth is on him too, licking the shaft of his cock as I suck the head, kissing me around his hot, hard flesh. She dips her head lower to nuzzle the base of his shaft, sucking his balls, making him twitch in my mouth.
I channel all the desperate arousal I feel into licking him, my tongue spiraling around his cock, dueling with hers. We kiss more fervently, his cockhead throbbing between our mouths as we pass it back and forth. He’s been virtually silent, nothing except the powerful pulse of his flesh betraying his excitement, but now he groans as his cum bursts out, splattering us both. I lick it from inside and around her mouth hungrily, frenzied in my need to get every last drop.
My fingers are still inside her, but now she stands, leaning against him a little unsteadily. He pushes my head to her pussy. She’s drenched. I lick her, and he lubes up a finger with her juice and pushes it into her ass. The bucking of her hips intensifies and as I suck her clit she grinds on my face. She squirts a little as she climaxes, her taste mingling with his in my mouth.
I thought after that they would touch me; but no, my lesson is not over yet.
He pulls his sweatpants back on. She straightens her clothes, then leads me into the living room and makes me sit on a hard backed dining chair. There’s no cushion, and even the press of the seat against my pussy is tormenting me now. She arranges me with my skirt pulled up, legs spread to expose my crotch — and to stop me squeezing my thighs together for relief. They sit on the sofa, her reading something on her tablet, him playing a game on his phone, each glancing up at me every so often.
They virtually ignore me for what seems like ages, but gradually their stares become more blatant, focusing between my legs. I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet. She gets up and walks to me. My body floods with anticipation, but what she does just makes it worse. She pulls off my panties and tosses them to him; he sniffs and licks them appreciatively. Then she lifts my feet up onto the chair seat so my thighs are splayed open obscenely, displaying my cunt as it peels open. I feel humiliated, exposed… unbearably aroused.
He’s looking at me, hard again, a hand inside his sweatpants, stroking himself slowly. He grins at me, knowing I want to beg for it but don’t quite dare.
“Okay, you can go now,” she says.
I gaze at her in disbelief. She’s going to kick me out, in my too-short skirt and no panties, wetness trickling down my thighs, cum and pussy juice smeared over my face? Knowing I’m so desperately aroused I probably won’t get further than the lobby of their apartment building before I give in to my urge to touch myself? She wouldn’t… would she?
I’m shaking as I get to my feet, trying to marshal my thoughts.
And then he stands, takes my hand and leads me to the sofa, falling back so I land on top of him.
She smiles indulgently. “I guess punishment time is over,” she says.
And then her hands are on me while his cock thrusts into me.
By nutbuster